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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29893902">20 Minutes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingboom/pseuds/writingboom'>writingboom</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftercare, Cock Warming, Crotch Stepping, Degradation, Dom/sub, Face-Fucking, Fluff, Light Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Oral Sex, Sadism, Smut, Subspace, and some, hehe, hhh - Freeform, its kenhina, of course, this is just, this is some shit, uh, uh hello, we got some</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:42:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,144</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29893902</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingboom/pseuds/writingboom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It didn’t surprise him that Kenma was a sadist. It’s not as if he hides it from his day-to-day personality. Just how deep the sadism went, however, was a bit of a shocker.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hinata Shouyou/Kozume Kenma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>270</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>20 Minutes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It started happening about a month after Shoyo came back from Brazil. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It didn’t surprise him that Kenma was a sadist. It’s not as if he hides it from his day-to-day personality. Just how </span>
  <em>
    <span>deep </span>
  </em>
  <span>the sadism went, however, </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>a bit of a shocker. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s not sure how he got roped into it either. It’s hot as hell, yeah, but Shoyo never imagined he would end up doing such degrading things with one of his best friends and high school rivals. Especially not so many years later. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But here he is- on his knees, his mouth full of cock and hands clenched in his lap, handcuffed and chained together. Kenma sits in his gaming chair above him, headphones covering his ears as he curses quietly and presses madly at buttons. He’s live streaming, and he’s having Shoyo cock-warm him for the whole hour he’s doing it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rule is simple, Kenma said. Shoyo can tap his ankle twice if he needs to safeword, but other than that he’s supposed to focus on nothing else but pleasing him, and he’s not allowed to touch himself or Kenma in any way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s really hard, and it’s really tiring. But Shoyo refuses to give in, because those things have never made him quit anything before. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Plus, his mind is really, really quiet. Heavy, quiet, and blurry. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hands are shaking now, in his lap. The exhaustion from his jaw has been traveling down his spine for a while now, and it’s starting to weigh on him. He’s so hard in his gym shorts, and he knows he would feel better if he could cum, but he also knows (unfortunately from experience) that Kenma would know as soon as he even reached for himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t know how long it’s been. Time blurs together, the only thing he can track is how often he sucks, how often he pulls  off and licks up and down the smooth skin of Kenma’s cock instead of working his tongue and bobbing his head lazily. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They’ve done things similar to this before, but never this long, and never this strict. Usually he’s allowed to take breaks, small little minutes where Kenma will card his soft hands through Shoyo’s hair and coo sweet things down at him until he gets his breath back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not this time, though. This time, it’s like Shoyo isn’t even there. He’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be there. Kenma is working. He’s interacting with other people. Shoyo is nothing but something warm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thought makes him feel really, really hot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So since we only have 20 minutes left, I guess I’ll pick out some questions. Go on and ask in the chat.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shoyo feels a whimper threaten to bubble up from his chest, his body curling in and tears springing up into his eyes as Kenma’s voice reaches him through the fog. He still has 20 minutes of this? God, he isn’t sure… his whole body is shouting at him. His mind is begging him to let his complete consciousness go, or do </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>to change the situation, but he can’t. That’s part of the rule- it’s for Kenma’s pleasure. If he lets himself fully zone into subspace he won’t be able to focus on his task.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>20 more minutes….</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wants to cry. He pulls in a choppy breath, on the verge of tears as he pulls back and swirls his heavy, exhausted tongue around Kenma’s tip. It feels so big now, in his mouth. It feels like it keeps getting bigger and bigger and that’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>fair. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-most people, Link was my first main, though now I prefer Zelda- </span>
  <em>
    <span>HEY.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ah, fuck fuck fuck fuck- Kenma grabs his hair in a sharp fist, his angry hiss is loud in Shoyo’s ears and he tries not to whine loud enough to be heard as hes forced low enough on Kenma’s cock that his gag reflex kicks in just a bit. He left his mouth open, he stopped moving. Shit.. he can’t be loud, he can’t make noise or people will hear him-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No.... no, people... know now. Kenma spoke to him. With a desperate, tear filled glance up, he confirms golden eyes glaring down at him too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shoyo tries to breathe, letting Kenma hold him down even as tears finally fall down his cheeks and with a garble, bubbles of saliva leak from the corners of his mouth. He’s making a mess. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenma glares down at him for a second, maybe two. His eyes whisper nothing but his rule- </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t slack off.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then he looks back up, and lets go of Shoyo’s hair to focus back on the screen, the lines of disappointment and anger melting from his face. Shoyo pulls back until just the tip is left on his tongue- the only way he can manage when trying to get some relief- and squeezes his eyes shut. He tries not to panic. He’s okay. He’s okay. Kenma’s going to let it go. He just needs to breathe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenma is quiet for longer than he has been in a while. Shoyo’s mind is buzzing. He must be ignoring questions. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Who were you talking to?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kozuken, is someone else with you? Who is it?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Is someone under the table? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shoyo pulls in as deep a breath as he can manage. His jelly-feeling hands tug against the chain between the cuffs and he forces his head back down. Forces his tongue flat against the bottom of his mouth so he can fit more, so he can be better. He can’t let that happen again. He can’t. He has to be good. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He can’t seem to stop crying. He feels like jello now. All he wants to do is give up and collapse into a heap off to the side and pass out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Guys, calm down,” Kenma says, voice smooth. “It’s just my cat.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then his hand is sliding along Shoyo’s cheek. Down from his temple, fingertips so gentle as the smooth side of his nails skitter down to tickle Shoyo’s cheekbone affectionately. It feels so </span>
  <em>
    <span>wonderful, </span>
  </em>
  <span>it’s such an unexpected relief of acknowledgement that Shoyo almost moans. Almost. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He focuses on the gentle touch, the gentle scratching against his overheated skin, trying not to tremble. It’s gone all too soon though, traveling back around the side of his skull to his hairline. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenma grabs a strand of his hair and </span>
  <em>
    <span>tugs it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shoyo </span>
  <em>
    <span>does </span>
  </em>
  <span>whine then, senses overloaded as sharp pain hits him full force. His eyes cross and roll as Kenma just drops his other hand and presses Shoyo all the way down on his cock to shut him up. The other hand, now holding a few strands of his orange hair, lifts into the view of the camera. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“See? This is from my sweats, you invasive commenters. He’s orange, and he just barely avoided getting kicked for interrupting.” Shoyo’s head </span>
  <em>
    <span>swims, </span>
  </em>
  <span>though he’s not sure if it’s from the lack of oxygen from the cock lodged in his throat or Kenma’s secretly degrading words. “So there you go. As I was saying-” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenma lets his head go, but all Shoyo manages to do is pull off and pant- desperately trying to catch his breath and not collapse like he so desperately wants to. He’s tired. He isn’t sure how much longer he can do this after all. That whole thing sort of pushed his limit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he just leans forward, his face drawn up, tears still streaming down his face and mouths at the base of Kenma’s cock. It takes all his effort just to loll his tongue, to choke back exhausted sobs and keep his body upright. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tries looking up. Kenma’s face is drawn down, he’s talking about something but Shoyo can’t find it in him to listen. He feels too dazed now, he can’t do it. Everything hurts. He wants to be kissed, he wants to cum.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A gold eye darts down at him, and Shoyo feels like it brings lightning with it. He whines, hushed, and mouths harder, wiggling his tongue and sucking weakly at the smooth skin. Kenma looks back at the screen, then right back down at him, darting between him and the chat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then he takes a breath, and his hand drops to Shoyo’s head. It’s gentle. It doesn’t move him. And it makes his eyes roll into his head. It feels good to have the touch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Everyone, I know I still have 10 minutes on the timer, but I’m cutting it early.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fuck, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck fuck fuck fuck-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll stay longer next week. Make sure you subscribe,” the hand tightens in his hair, fingers curling posessively through his waves. Anticipation swirls heavy in Shoyo’s stomach. “Kuroken signing off.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There are two clicks of the keyboard, and then Shoyo watches with blurry, wet vision as Kenma tears off his headset and throws it carelessly onto his desk, like it </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn't</span>
  </em>
  <span> cost thousands of yen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ah. He’s looking. He’s looking at Shoyo now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Color, Shoyo.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shoyo’s eyes just flutter. His tongue is out, he’s drooling a little into Kenma’s pelvis and he feels so entranced by the look in those gold eyes that he can’t focus on words at all. There are long fingers in his hair and attention- </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally </span>
  </em>
  <span>attention on him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenma’s brow furrows. He scoots backward in his hair, the wheels swiveling from under the desk and Shoyo cries out as he’s pulled with it like he’s dead weight. The hand in his hair is tight now, and his ass hits the floor hard enough to hurt as his legs fall out of line from his kneeling position. Kenma pulls Shoyo’s face to the side and presses his cheek against his thigh. He looks a little angry. Shoyo’s tears are wetting the fabric of Kenma’s briefs, the only item of clothing left on his legs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you do a little more for me? Hm?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shoyo moans. All he knows is Kenma’s tone is low, and soft, and serious. It sounds nice. It feels so fucking good not to be on his knees now, it feels nice to be manhandled just this little bit- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenma pulls his head up by his hair, lets go, and uses the hand to slap him across the cheek. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shoyo yelps, pain shuddering across his face and it’s just delayed enough to make him snap back into mental consciousness. The hand is back in the top of his hair to hold him up just as he’s about to fall, and he chokes on another sob, throat wet with tears and saliva. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Answer me,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Shoyo. Give me a color, </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>G-reen!!!</span>
  </em>
  <span>“ Shoyo cries, trembling now. “Green, g-green- please- I-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shh,” Kenma moves his hand down to hold him by his cheeks instead, his long thumbs wipe the tears off of Shoyo’s cheeks but they’re just replaced by fresh ones. Shoyo can’t stop </span>
  <em>
    <span>shaking. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Calm down. Take a deep breath.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shoyo inhales as much as he can, but it’s not much. It’s choppy and shaky and wet. His eyes flutter open to see Kenma’s eyes heavy on him, so intense that it makes him feel like he needs to dig a hole into the tatami mat and crawl into it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenma’s eyes dart all over his face- analysing. Judging. It’s not an unusual feeling, for Kenma to look at him like that- but it’s making his skin crawl right now. He’s so fucking tired, his whole body hurts, he can’t seem to take a proper breath with how badly hes still crying about </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s overwhelmed. Overstimulated. Kenma knows that, but it still doesn’t stop him from shoving a thumb into the side of his mouth and stretching Shoyo’s jaw open so he can slide his cock back inside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Shoyo tries. Really, he does. He forces his mouth open as wide as he can bear it, even against the </span>
  <em>
    <span>ache</span>
  </em>
  <span> that shoots through his jaw, how wired and heavy the joints feel. He wraps his lips around the width of it and keeps them sealed as long as he can but the muscles are so spent he barely even lasts a minute before they fall open again and he just has to sit open mouthed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tries. His tongue is dead weight. His head is heavy on his neck. But Kenma still wants to use him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It barely lasts two minutes of being very minutely moved up and down by his hair before Kenma pulls him off and uses a sharp hand to grab onto his jaw. He tilts Shoyo’s face up to him, his fingers so tight that it pushes his cheeks together just a bit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘M s-or-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Quiet</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shoyo’s face is twisted in shame and disappointment, eyes squeezed shut as his body shivers and trembles. He’s suddenly acutely aware that if Kenma decided to stop holding up his face, he’d fall. He can’t move, he can’t think. He’s so tired. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>‘nma-</span>
  </em>
  <span>” a weak slur of Kenma’s name. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hears the noise of Kenma jerking off before he actually registers it. Need shudders down his spine and he moans- unsure why- tirely pushing his head into Kenmas hand as much as he can. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shoyo shivers </span>
  <em>
    <span>violently </span>
  </em>
  <span>as Kenma presses the tip of his cock against Shoyo’s cheek and smears the wetness onto his skin. Shoyo can’t open his eyes, they’re too heavy, but he follows the feeling of it- tilts his head and mindlessly opens his mouth and stretches out his tongue to try and taste- feel. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenma makes some sort of strained, low noise, but then his foot presses into Shoyo’s erection and the cry he makes far drowns out whatever noise of pleasure it was trying to be. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shoyo </span>
  <em>
    <span>bends, </span>
  </em>
  <span>his body curls inward so harshly that Kenma almost loses his grip. It feels so fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>good, </span>
  </em>
  <span>the most sheer, long awaited relief Shoyo might have ever experienced and all Kenma is doing is </span>
  <em>
    <span>pressing on him-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> Shoyo,” the slick sounds quicken, Shoyo cant focus on anything at all. “How long have you been like this.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shoyo whines, Kenma lets up on the pressure just enough to let him roll his hips. He wants to grab onto his ankle and rut against him but he.. isn’t allowed to touch...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“K-nma’-” he whimpers, head falling to the side. He feels overheated. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>gets this hard from being used as a cock warmer for an hour? Huh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shoyo’s eyes flutter, rolling into his head. His mouth is open with his heavy, quick breathing, he feels a line of saliva spill over but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>care-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know who likes this? Perverts. Is that what you are now? Or have you always been like this.” Kenma slides his thumb back into his mouth and hooks it around his lip, pulling his mouth open so Shoyo drools even more, so that it drips down his chin and falls to the floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-ike it,” Shoyo slurs, wet, messy, muffled, the fingers now only cradling his chin dont keep him up so his head falls slightly to the side. “I- ‘ike it-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Christ-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another bitten off curse, and Shoyo whimpers through a sob as Kenma presses down on his cock harder. The slapping sounds are so fast now, the thumb curled into his lip curls harder as Kenma tenses up. Close…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eyes up,” Kenma’s voice is thick and weak now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shoyo blinks his eyes open, but it’s not much. They’re lidded, heavy, slightly crossed even as he tries to blearily focus on Kenma’s face. It’s hard to see him properly, but he looks focused, and red-faced, and needy. But he moans. Kenma’s close. He’s gonna.. cum on Shoyo’s face-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’m-“ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Splashes of hot cum hit him in spurts. The first is heavy and thick, it lands on Shoyo’s cheek and he has to flinch and squeeze his eye shut as it hits him there too. Then another, on the bridge of his nose, spilling down into his open mouth. Shoyo sobs weakly, tiredly, hips jerking weakly against Kenma’s foot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Almost immediately after he’s done, Kenma’s finger slides from Shoyo’s mouth and smears his own saliva across his cheek. Shoyo opens his one eye, the one not about to get jizz in it, and looks up at the gold eyes trained in his face, panting and breathless. Entranced. It's nice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But then the hand that was previously working Kenma’s cock slides against his face. Shoyo’s breath catches- he isn’t crying much now- and he holds his breath as Kenma slides his fingers through the cum on his face, collecting it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He only gets the stuff on his cheek before he’s gripping his jaw in his whole hand again and shoving the dirty fingers into Shoyo’s mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mmngh-</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Shoyo muffles, looking up at Kenma desperately as the bitterness that’s usually too far into his mouth to taste bursts on his tongue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t swallow,” Kenma orders, still slightly breathless. He pulls Shoyo up, closer, making him whimper and squeeze his eyes shut again. “Hold it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The fingers draw out and Shoyo tries not to gag, his cheeks puff out a little to hold his breath. Kenma collects the cum on his nose, and shoves that in too, squeezing Shoyo’s face too hard when he doesn’t keep his lips closed around his fingers to suck the mess off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He does it again, and then again, his touch gentle and more thorough around Shoyo’s eye. Shoyo’s head is beyond fuzzy, suckling gently at Kenma’s salty fingertips by the time his skin is clean. He lets his body hang, propped up now by Kenma’s hold on his jaw and his sternum against the edge of the seat. His fingers are tingling. The jizz still sits, warm and bitter on his tongue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kemna pulls him up a little, tilting his face further toward him, and Shoyo looks at him in a daze. He’s pretty, like this, his hair is so long and dark now. Pretty all the time. Pretty…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now swallow it,” gold eyes hold him. “Swallow, then stick out your tongue.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s heavy, and thick, but Shoyo closes his eyes and swallows it. He swallows it once, trying not to gag, and then swallows it twice. It doesn’t all go down- it sticks to his tongue and the roof of his mouth- but then it does, all at once. Shoyo moans and sticks out his tongue, panting, his heart racing. He’s done. That’s all, right? He’s done?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thaaats it. Good boy.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shoyo </span>
  <em>
    <span>moans. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Relief washes through his bones. Kenma moves and cups his jaw and his head falls against a pale thigh. He can’t breathe. He’s suddenly acutely aware of how hard he is, so hard it hurts. He pushes his hips forward to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>for it but he… he can’t… his body is.. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>K-en..</span>
  </em>
  <span>“ his voice is weak and broken. He can barely even clink the chains of his cuffs. “Wan’.. p-ease-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You wanna cum?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh, he’s crying again. He’s not sure when that happened, but he sobs into Kenma’s skin and nods desperately. He wants… he </span>
  <em>
    <span>needs… </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’s gonna die.. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-lease, pl-ea’ I-“ He can’t form proper words, his voice is heavy with a slur. He feels so weak and heavy and foggy that he’s worried he might pass out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shh,” Kenma’s palm stays soft and gentle on his cheek, the other cards through his hair. “Do you want it like this?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His foot presses a little firmer, and Shoyo </span>
  <em>
    <span>whimpers. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He does want it. He does but he can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>move, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he can’t move- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shush </span>
  </em>
  <span>Shoyo,” ah, Kenma slides his hands under Shoyo’s biceps and grabs them, uses them to pull him up. “You need to calm down now.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He finds his feet for half a second, a second only needed to let Kenma maneuver his hands to Shoyo’s hips and then pull him sharply into his lap. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shoyo </span>
  <em>
    <span>sobs, </span>
  </em>
  <span>beyond relief, shaking and trembling as Kenma drags a hand up to the back of his neck and gently guides his face into the crook of his neck. His bound hands find tight purchase in the fabric of Kenma’s sweatshirt and he cants his hips forward exhaustedly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got you,” Kenma holds his head down, long fingers commanding and firm. “Let it go. You’re all done.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hnng</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” his breath is sharp, loud, it burns like freezing cold air in the back of his throat. Kenma’s hand is warm, slipped underneath the band of his shorts, gliding up his cock firm and easy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s wet, he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>soaked, </span>
  </em>
  <span>it’s such an easy stroke, it feels so fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>good- </span>
  </em>
  <span>but fuck, it hurts too, it aches so much… he was so pent up, every twitch of fingers and pull of wrist makes him </span>
  <em>
    <span>shake</span>
  </em>
  <span> with oversensitivity. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Breathe</span>
  </em>
  <span>, breathe,” Kenma says, quietly against his temple. “You’re doing so well. My good boy, huh?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shoyo whines, he moans, he shivers and clutches onto his clothes and weakly, desperately works his hips as much as they’ll go. Kenma’s hand doesn’t move fast, it doesn’t jerk him harshly or tightly. It’s a consistent, firm, slick feeling. The sounds alone are making Shoyo’s hips tremble, pleasure peaking already in his lower abdomen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And another round of dizziness hits him as he gets close, so intense he almost goes completely limp. He’s really, really gonna pass out. His throat is raw, his body is sore, and fuck, he’s gonna.. he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>gonna…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He almost does pass out. Maybe he does, at least a little, after he spills weakly over Kenma’s fingers and into the fabric of his briefs. He feels his cock twitch, and then he feels his body give out completely like it does when he climbs into bed after a really long day on the court. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regardless of if he does blank, he just knows that everything is really, really blurry after. He has unfocused vision, warm, heavy awareness as Kenma rubs his hands up and down the sweaty skin of his back. His hair is brushed off his forehead and that feels nice. Kenma coos soft things that Shoyo can’t properly decipher against his forehead, and his nose, and his cheek. Shoyo only knows he’s still slumped against him because they aren’t moving from the chair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It must take a few minutes for him to register anything. Kenma has given up speaking to him, holding him pressed into his shoulder again as his other arm is wrapped around his torso. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-mmm.. nma.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His voice is too heavy. Kenma hums, his fingers are in Shoyo’s hair now and he can </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>them again when they scratch gently along his sore scalp. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shoyo furrows his eyebrows. His bladder pokes at him, and he’s still so tired, still out of it enough that he doesn’t want to move. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you with me?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shoyo grunts. He takes a breath, more solid than it has been in what feels like years, and noses against the warm skin his face is pressed into. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenma chuckles softly. “You did so well.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y-ou had to cut it,” Shoyo grumbles, his voice is so sore when the words brush past. He tries to move his fingers where they’re pressed between their bodies. His boxers are sticky and uncomfortable. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was planning to cut it even earlier than we did. You held out much longer than I expected.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shoyo pouts. He’ll do better next time. Next time, he’ll last the whole hour. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gotta pee.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenma laughs against his shoulder, and his long hair tickles Shoyo’s cheek. He turns and kisses the side of Shoyo’s neck, lips curled in a smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Give me your hands first,” Kenma says, pulling out of the embrace so that Shoyo can push his cuffed wrists out to the side, not bothering to sit up. He just needs to be undone and then Kenma can help him move. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s quick, of course. Straps of Velcro that come undone in seconds, and leave Shoyo shivering just a bit at the cold air on the skin previously trapped and sweaty. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They find their way upright. Kenma helps him to the bathroom on his wobbly legs, knees bruised so deeply already that Shoyo winces at them as he sits down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he’s done, Kenma comes back and helps him back into his huge, spine meltingly soft bed. He talks softly about stupid people he’s had to talk to over the week, including Kuroo, and pets Shoyo’s hair off his head over and over until he starts to drift into unconsciousness. It’s always so warm under Kenma’s sheets. It’s always so easy after they do things like this, for Shoyo not to think and just let Kenma care for him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shoyo likes to take care of himself. But he likes this too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His last thought before he falls asleep is the pleasant realization that his jaw will be reminding him of this for quite some time when he wakes up. </span>
</p><p>
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